


Scenes From The Stardust Cafe

by undyneorgana



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Brendol does not belong here, Coffee Shops, M/M, forgive me Father for I have sinned, literally exactly what you think it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-12 20:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9090379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undyneorgana/pseuds/undyneorgana
Summary: Galen Erso has quite enough to contend with as a single father trying to run a small business in East London. He's got a to do list a mile long as is. But Orson Krennic, his newly acquired smarmy Australian stalker, seems intent on adding himself to the list.





	1. Chapter 1

The clock ticked over to 7:58 as a man in an immaculately pressed light grey suit walked in out of the cold, shook his white umbrella out, and marched straight to the counter.

Bodhi was already offering him his best customer service smile. “Good morning, sir, what can I get for you today?”

Bodhi was much more partial to a hi-there-how-are-you kind of greeting, but he knew this type -- they wanted to be in and out and they didn’t want to be small-talked at by anybody on less than six figures.

“Soy latte, extra shot,” said the man, reaching into his coat to procure his credit card. His voice was clipped, but he quite clearly had an accent. Bodhi strongly suspected that asking him how long he’d been in England wasn’t the best idea. 

“Just a couple of minutes, sir,” Bodhi said, taking the man’s card -- Imperial Architecture, it read, in lieu of a name -- to press it against the card reader and returning it to him as quick as possible. “Do you need your receipt?”

The businessman curled his lip and haughtily shook his head. Bodhi nodded, and with another cursory smile moved to the coffee machine. 

As he ran a double espresso shot, he glanced over at Galen, who was sitting at a booth in the back corner, poring over paperwork with his reading glasses perched halfway down his nose. His hair was tied in a small knot at the back of his head, and he had rolled up the sleeves of his dark blue shirt. He looked tired. He always looked tired.

Bodhi was always a little more at ease when Galen wasn’t standing right beside him as he worked. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Galen -- quite the contrary, he was probably one of very few employers to give out a livable wage to a barista -- but he cared so deeply about the business that the thought of doing something wrong in front of him was terrifying.

Tugging a fresh carton of almond milk from the bar fridge under the coffee machine, Bodhi glanced at his watch. It read 7:56. A couple of years ago, before Lyra died, Galen had set the clocks in the cafe a few minutes fast, in the hopes that it’d spur him on to get home quicker.

It never had.

After she died, Galen had become all the more dedicated to his work. It seemed he only emerged from it when Jyn was around after school. He was always there before Bodhi arrived each morning, and nobody had ever actually seen him leave at the end of the day. Some of the weekend casual staff joked that he slept there.

Bodhi didn’t partake. Galen had only asked him to watch Jyn three times in the same number of years, and each time he’d apologetically explained that he’d much rather not ask at all. Devoted to his work though he was, he would die before he disadvantaged Jyn.

Bodhi sealed the coffee carefully, placing a miniature shortbread on top, and looked up to see the man glancing around with agitation. When he saw Bodhi holding his latte, he marched over to snatch it. With a sour look on his face, he turned and walked out.

A few minutes later he returned, the coffee in hand. Bodhi’s eyes widened. Hands shaking, he finished making the hot chocolate for the big old man who worked in the tea shop a few doors down, and placed a couple of extra shortbreads on top of its lid. The old man’s husband always nabbed one, Bodhi knew, so he had to make sure there was enough. Feeling quite like he was walking to his death, Bodhi walked over to the register where the businessman was standing and plastered on his best sympathetic frown.

“Hel- excuse me, sir, hello, is- was there- did you need something else, sir?”

With barely concealed rage, the man whacked the cup on the counter -- to Bodhi’s mild relief, it didn’t tip over, though some coffee sloshed out. “This is _not_ soy milk!” the man exclaimed. Bodhi wracked his brain.

“Did… I’m sorry, sir, did you want… soy…” At the look on the man’s face, Bodhi froze. “Oh, I’m so sorry, sir, my apologies.”

“Well?” he demanded, his voice growing in volume. Bodhi stared down at the counter. “Are you going to just stand there, or are you going to remake it?”

“Oh, yes, sir, I-”

Bodhi felt a hand on his shoulder, and could just about have died of terror. Galen was standing beside him.

Galen had seen the whole exchange. Galen had seen him make the wrong coffee.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Galen, a friendly smile on his face. “What is the issue here?”

The man seemed to go through several different emotions over the space of four seconds before he replied.

“My…” he cleared his throat and tried again. “ _Your_ barista made my coffee wrong.”

“Ah.” For a sickening moment, Bodhi expected Galen to turn to him and dismiss him on the spot.

“You wanted soy milk, I gather.”

“Yes,” said the man, upper lip curling. 

“Was your drink made with dairy? Are you lactose intolerant?”

“No,” the man said, deflating. “It was made with… almond milk, but I was just saying…” As he gathered his thoughts, Bodhi expected Galen to cut him off. But he didn’t. He waited, patiently, watching the man all the while. “I mean, what if I was allergic to nuts?”

Galen canted his head. “Are you allergic to nuts?”

The air went out of the man like a popped balloon. “No,” he conceded, quietly, staring right back at Galen, who smiled.

“I see no problem, do you?” Without giving the businessman time to reply, Galen turned his attention to Bodhi. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind remaking this gentleman’s drink, would you?”

Bodhi hurriedly shook his head. Galen turned his attention back to the man, pleasant smile firmly in place. The man stared at him for a long, silent moment, before raising an eyebrow at Bodhi.

“Sorry,” he said, expending the tremendous effort of turning his lips up at the corners. “Didn’t mean to snap.”

“Oh, that’s… that’s… it’s al- all fine, sir, thank you.”

Galen gave Bodhi a slight nod, and he retreated, fairly panting, to his place behind the coffee machine. He glanced back at the man, whose arms were petulantly crossed as he waited. The man had perfectly styled, though greying, hair, and his suit was of similar material to the one Bodhi had rented for his wedding day. 

As Galen passed Bodhi on the way back to his seat, he muttered: “Manners aren’t quite dead yet, hmm?”

With the second coffee made, the man moved very deliberately towards Bodhi, pausing for a moment in front of him. With alarm, Bodhi glanced back at Galen, who was watching the man cautiously.

The man placed a pound coin on the counter beside his coffee and turned to go, looking at Galen as he went. Frowning, Galen pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a finger and returned to his work.

On his break at noon, Bodhi pulled the salad his wife had dutifully made and stuffed into a Tupperware container from the milk fridge and perched himself carefully in the booth next to Galen. 

“Alright?” Bodhi asked, carefully. Galen greeted him with a smile.

“Tired. And you?”

Bodhi stabbed a cherry tomato with his fork. “I… I’m very sorry about earlier, Galen. I… clearly, I wasn’t thinking.”

Galen made a dismissive sound in his throat, flipping through a neatly stapled stack of papers and frowning as he copied figures onto a calculator. “It isn’t a problem,” he muttered, absorbed.

When Bodhi failed to reply, Galen put down his work and decisively removed his glasses, folding them and placing them atop his papers. He took a long, tired breath. “Listen to me, Bodhi. Everyone makes mistakes. It isn’t your fault that some…” He gestured vaguely with one hand. “Some middle-management monkey decided to get upset at you. I’m not angry.”

Shoving a forkful of salad in his mouth, Bodhi nodded, taking the moment of silence to formulate a coherent sentence before he started speaking. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. 

A fond smile on his face, Galen shook his head. “He probably won’t come back. He must be offended -- I doubt we’ll see him again.”


	2. Chapter 2

To Bodhi’s dismay, the frightening man in the second-rate suit was back the very next day. Once again, at 7:58 he walked through the door, pausing, and only continuing forward, it seemed, once he’d been assured Galen was sitting in the same place he had been the day before.

 

Probably wanted to make sure there was enough distance so that he could get a punch in before Galen came to Bodhi’s aid.

 

Bodhi prayed to himself that at least the bruise would satisfy him, then he’d never come back. Ever.

 

Mr Baze, from the tea shop, was ahead in the queue, and Bodhi retreated to make his hot chocolate. Maybe Galen would stand up and serve the businessman instead, if he was lucky.

 

“Are you alright?” asked Mr Baze, his weathered features wrinkling even more with concern. Bodhi nodded and made his drink hurriedly, spilling a few drops of it onto his hand as he did. Hissing, he placed a shortbread on top of the old man’s cup. As he handed it over, Mr Baze gave him a long, perturbed look, but shrugged and wished him a nice day before departing.

 

Time to face the music.

 

White umbrella hooked over one arm, the man was wearing a brown suit and a look of distaste, like one who had just spotted a cockroach on their kitchen floor. Bodhi glanced uncomfortably at Galen, who was watching from the corner with an unreadable expression. If anything, he must have been confused, too.

 

“Good morning, sir, lovel- very… very nice to see you. Again.”

 

“Mm.” The man glanced over his shoulder nonchalantly at Galen, and for a split second Bodhi swore he saw a smile on his face.

 

Weird.

 

“I’ll have a soy latte,” This he drawled, stretching each syllable, “And an extra shot.” He gave Bodhi the same perfunctory smile he had the day before, but in his eyes there was a warning.

 

Bodhi undercharged him, in the hopes it would prevent his imminent death. 

 

As he set about making the man’s coffee, Galen stood and walked over to stand beside him.

 

“I need to ask a favour,” he said. Bodhi raised a questioning eyebrow. “Since the weather is so bad today, I thought I might go and pick Jyn up at three. Would you stay another hour so I can?”

 

Had Bodhi somehow entered The Twilight Zone on his way to work that morning? Only once in his three years working with Galen had he ever left the premises during opening hours, and it was because his wife was on the brink of death.

 

“Oh, I- of course. Of course I can. Would. Yes.”

 

The man was standing less than a metre from the coffee machine. He didn’t speak, apparently content to watch the interaction unfold. In a show of utter disinterest, he pulled out his phone and set about typing a message into the screen with his index finger. Bodhi very carefully pulled out the carton of soy milk from the fridge, checking more than once that it was the correct one.

 

“Excellent. I do worry sometimes…” Bodhi braced himself -- he had never been good at comforting Galen on the rare occasions he’d been frank with his emotions. He didn’t need another reason to cringe around the curmudgeonly businessman. “The winters seem to be getting colder every year. Maybe she needs a new coat.”

 

Admittedly, Bodhi didn’t consider himself an expert in suitable clothing for eight-year-old girls. His oldest was four, and a boy. “If… if you…”

 

Galen never spoke about such mundane things. He was acting very bizarrely, and the only difference today was…

 

Bodhi’s eyes darted between his boss and the businessman.

 

He was being protected.

 

“That’s a good idea,” Bodhi managed, silencing the both of them by turning on the steam for the man’s soy milk. The hissing sound allowed him to collect himself. After such a frankly embarrassing talking-to the day before, surely he wouldn’t lose his temper again. 

 

“I’ll bring her back here, afterwards, so you don’t have to stay too long. Ada and the children will be missing you if you’re away all afternoon, I’m sure.”

 

Bodhi had to close his eyes and stifle the smile that threatened his composure. Five years he’d been married to Ada and the thought that she’d be waiting for him at home still made him a little giddy. But he suspected if the businessman saw him smiling, he’d brand him as unprofessional or something. He didn’t need that.

 

“Yes, yes, you’re right,” Bodhi replied, the smile blooming despite his best efforts.

 

Sealing the coffee and placing two shortbreads on top, Bodhi was able to maintain eye contact with the businessman for a whole second.

 

“Have a nice day, sir,” he said, feeling like a child thanking a distant relative for an unwanted birthday gift. To his surprise the man nodded his thanks and stood there, taking his first sip. 

 

Looking pleasantly surprised, he glanced at Galen. “Best I’ve had outside Sydney so far,” he said. 

 

Galen raised his eyebrows. “High praise,” he said. “I curate our blend myself.”

 

“I’m sure I’ll be back,” said the businessman. “My name’s Krennic. Orson Krennic.”

 

Galen gave Bodhi a sidelong, quizzical look, as if attempting to verify that they were both, in fact, conscious and sober.

 

“I’m Galen,” he said. “This is Bodhi.” He paused. “It’s a pleasure, Mr Krennic.”

 

“Likewise.” Krennic’s posture straightened; he laced his hands together in front of him. “I’m an architect. With Imperial.” He smirked. “You may have heard of us. I worked on the Rothschild Bank headquarters, myself.”

 

Except for on the man’s credit card, Bodhi hadn’t ever heard of that company, but Galen seemed markedly impressed.

 

“Of course,” he replied, spreading his hands in a gesture that seemed to include the whole cafe. “I admire your company’s work.”

 

“Likewise,” Krennic said, again. Galen chuckled. “Well. Work awaits.”

 

Seemingly very satisfied, the businessman nodded once more and left.

 

Bodhi frowned. 

 

“Imperial constructed the floor you’re standing on, Bodhi,” Galen explained a little gravely. “They’re part of quite a conglomerate.”

 

More than once, Bodhi had listened to him explain his distaste for big corporations. He didn’t like the way they had so much control and so little accountability. He didn’t like not knowing their motives.

 

“He must be a… good… architect, then,” Bodhi said, with all the sincerity he could muster. In truth, Krennic terrified him even more now -- what reason did he even have to suddenly stay and chat for a few minutes? As far as Bodhi could discern, there wasn’t one. It unsettled him all the more.

 

Galen shrugged and moved back to the register, poking idly at it for the sales readouts for the morning.

 

“So, you- you’ll be leaving to get Jyn around… half past two, then?”

 

Galen looked at him with confusion, but quickly smiled. “Oh, my, no. You don’t think a bit of rain would stop Stardust from doing something all by herself, do you?”

 

Jyn was, indeed, probably the most determined little girl Bodhi had ever met. She’d been walking herself the half-mile from the bus stop to the cafe every day after school for nearly a year; it would probably have been longer had Galen not been so overprotective. He’d specifically hired a young man who he’d thoroughly interviewed and examined before giving him the position of babysitter. These days Jyn was mostly allowed to do things by herself, but the babysitter still came by occasionally, usually when Galen had an unavoidable social outing in the evenings.

 

“So… so I don’t need to stay late?”

 

“No, Bodhi. You can leave at three.”

 

“Oh.” It must have been part of Galen’s pretense to stand by for his protection. “Yes. Yes, right. Thanks.”

 

Both returned to their work, and Krennic received neither thought nor mention the rest of the day.

 

* * *

 

Jyn, aside from being an independent and determined little girl, was never sick.

 

When he received a call at 3am that night, Bodhi discovered just how worried any shift from the status quo could make Galen. He fumbled for his phone in the dark, jabbing at it to silence it. Whatever it was could wait.

 

Not thirty seconds later, the phone started buzzing again. Beside him, Ada grumbled in her sleep. Sighing, he sat up on the edge of the bed, swiping his thumb across the screen.

 

“Mmh?”

 

“Bodhi.”

 

Instantly, he was more alert. “Galen?”

 

“Stardust is sick,” he said, and he sounded desperate. Bodhi rubbed the heels of his hand into his eye. “I need you to open tomorrow, if you can.”

 

Bodhi let his head hang back and he suppressed a groan. “Mm.”

 

“At six, is that alright?”

 

As much as he liked and respected his boss, he knew when he wasn’t actually being given an option. “Yeah.”

 

Bodhi heard a cough on the other end and cringed. “Thank you,” Galen said, and hung up.

 

Sighing, Bodhi curled back up on his side, set an alarm, and closed his eyes.

 

The next morning he was up and in the cafe at five past six, wondering how Galen managed to do this every single day except Christmas and Good Friday. One time and he was dying. 

 

True to his word, at 7:58 Krennic walked in the door, today in grey again. He looked around with a pronounced frown and walked over to Bodhi at the register. Silently Bodhi prayed that he wouldn’t start chatting.

 

Without a word from either of them, Bodhi punched his order into the register and with a forced smile gestured to the card reader.

 

As he dug for his card, he glanced up. “Boss’s day off today?”

 

In shock, Bodhi shook his head. Was this man susceptible to demonic possession upon exposure to almonds or was he just capable of frightening mood swings? “Family business.”

 

With pursed lips, Krennic shrugged, put his card back in the pocket from which he’d produced it, and stood by the coffee machine. When Bodhi had made his drink, he nodded his thanks and quietly left.

  
Later in the day, when Galen texted asking how the day was going, Bodhi decided not to mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I specifically need to thank Flyting for this (if you guys like Star Wars baddies, and since you're here, I'm assuming you do), you should go read all their Kylux stuff. Awesome individual for letting me bounce about 400 ideas off of them :D


	3. Chapter 3

Since his first appearance, Krennic had come in every weekday for a month. Bodhi still didn’t like him, but he’d begun to notice a pattern.

 

The week that Jyn was sick, when Galen had been rushing to and fro and spent less time than normal in the cafe, Krennic had been reserved -- not angry, exactly, but definitely not the chatty persona he’d shown on the day he introduced himself. After, when Galen returned, was when Bodhi began to see it.

 

He always stayed, if Galen was free, to chat for a moment or two. If it was a busy morning, Bodhi made sure that Galen served him.

 

His boss seemed not to mind the businessman’s presence -- actually, he seemed totally oblivious to the interest he was receiving. And that was the thing; whenever Bodhi happened to glance at the man as he waited for his coffee, his gaze seemed to be fixed resolutely on Galen. It seemed to be more than the blank stare of someone with nothing better to look at as they waited for their coffee. It was the look of a man with a _fixation._

 

For his part, Bodhi didn’t speak to Krennic any more than necessary. There was something about his bearing, the mood he brought in, that was unsettling. It seemed to Bodhi that his one-time rage, over _nothing_ , was bubbling just under the surface.

 

“Jyn finishes school this week,” Galen told Bodhi one morning, Krennic standing nearby and poking at his phone. At the mention of Jyn, he looked up with a suspicious glint in his eye, accidentally meeting Bodhi’s vague early morning stare. Both frowned and looked hastily away.

 

“End of term already?”

 

“Mm. We’ll be seeing a lot more of her here.”

 

“Good,” Bodhi said, and saw Krennic frowning at his phone much more intensely than usual.

 

“Just as long as she doesn’t start stirring up trouble.”

 

A fond smile on his face, Galen sealed Krennic’s coffee and held it out for him.

 

Krennic smiled right back, but there was something pinched in his face as he took the coffee. “Have a good day, Galen,” he said.

 

“Same to you,” he replied, oblivious to the architect’s apparent distress.

 

As he walked out, his shoulders weren’t quite as straight-set as usual.

 

* * *

 

 

One afternoon, after Bodhi had gone home for the day and he was alone, Galen was leaning against the counter, staring at his phone. The normal pastry supplier had had a hiccup in the system and none of the scheduled deliveries for the next three days would be coming through. That meant he had no pain au chocolats or low-carb paleo-compliant scones and that meant he’d be in for more than one screaming middle aged woman in activewear in the next three days. He could buy some from the bakery up the road, but then it would throw off his paperwork for the entire quarter…

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed and moved over to the coffee machine to start cleaning it. He shouldn’t be staying all afternoon when Stardust had been promised Nando’s and a movie night for the end of term. She put up with so much for him.

 

Bodhi’s wife was an avid cook, but she had no food safety verification, and it was hardly fair to ask her to share the workload when she had two small children to look after by herself. That was out.

 

The doorbell tinkled cheerily, and Galen looked up from his work. In the doorway was Krennic, both his umbrella and his suit jacket slung over his arm.

 

“Afternoon,” he said brightly.

 

“It is. Did you leave something here this morning?”

 

Looking almost concerned, Krennic frowned as he moved slowly towards Galen. “No, no, I just thought I’d stop in -- I have a work function tonight, so I thought I could use another coffee.”

 

Galen paused with his hand on the machine’s power switch.

 

“Of course.”

 

Pulling out a fresh carton of soy, he set about putting a basket back into the portafilter. Jyn could wait five more minutes.

 

“Has it been a busy day?” Galen asked. Krennic leaned against the wall nearby. He’d loosened his tie, too. It was strange to see him so at ease -- then again, when he came in each morning, he hadn’t been caffeinated yet. Perhaps that was the difference.

 

“Yes, rather.” Glancing around the room, he gave a long-suffering sigh. “We’re working on a big project, and a colleague of mine is… well, let’s say he’s not very happy with giving credit where it’s due.”

 

“Sorry to hear that,” Galen said, steaming the milk. “I’m sure you’ll get the recognition you deserve eventually.”

 

Krennic smiled and was silent for a moment. Galen poured the coffee, absorbed in his own thoughts.

 

“And your day? Not too taxing?”

 

“Bodhi spilled soup all over the floor,” he said tiredly. The anti-slip mats were probably going to smell like chicken stock and celery forever. “But I have a chance to actually spend some time with my girl this evening.”

 

He held the finished drink out to Krennic, who swallowed and stood frozen for a moment before accepting it.

 

With a smile, he said, “I didn’t realise you were married.”

 

Galen’s face fell. “I… well, I suppose I’m not.” He pulled out his phone, activating the screen, and held it out for Krennic to see. The background was a photo of a young girl, perhaps five or six, with dark hair and a gap-toothed grin. Beside her was a woman with the same hair, but a much more somber expression. “That’s my daughter, Jyn. Her mother…” he cleared his throat. “It was about two years ago.”

 

Krennic’s face softened. “My condolences.” He looked up at Galen. “She looks like a nice child.”

 

“She’s wonderful,” he said, smiling and slipping his phone back into his pocket. The coffee done, he started cleaning. Again. “Very determined. She likes to be in charge.”

 

“I suppose I can see why that’s a bad idea.”

 

Chuckling, Galen nodded. “She finished term today, so I suppose you and I are both having parties tonight.”

 

Krennic raised his cup in thanks. “Oh, wait, I haven’t paid.”

 

Galen had already done the end of day paperwork. He shook his head.

 

“Really?” A pause. “Thank you, Galen.”

 

He smiled. “Enjoy your evening.”

 

He was already back at his work when the doorbell rang, signalling his exit.

 

It was strange, Galen thought as he locked up. If he didn’t know any better he might have suspected that Krennic’s interest in him went beyond the interest one had in a casual acquaintance. He seemed genuinely invested in the reply when he asked Galen how he was each morning. He left bigger tips when it wasn’t Bodhi that served him -- even though those tips went to Bodhi in the end anyway.

 

It wasn’t as though Galen had never considered a relationship with another man -- on the contrary, in his years at college he’d rather fancied a friend or two of his -- it was more that since Lyra died, he hadn’t really considered a relationship with anyone. It felt too foreign to invite anybody into the space she’d occupied. Their time had been brief, but extraordinarily happy.

 

It hardly mattered; it was probably vain of him to read so deeply into Krennic’s actions.

 

* * *

 

Orson Krennic had a crush.

 

He had tried hard to ignore it -- to palm it off simply as appreciating a handsome man who knew his way around a coffee machine. He even had an accent. That was all it was. Aesthetic appreciation for an attractive human being.

 

At least, that was all it was at first.

 

Now he found himself wondering what Galen was doing in the middle of the day; found himself listening intently as he prattled on each morning about the mundane happenings of his life. At once it irritated and intrigued him. He had no reason to care. He had plenty of prospects in terms of hotter, younger men who were immediately willing to engage in one night stands.

 

And yet he couldn’t push Galen out of his thoughts.

 

Krennic was a creature of habit as it was; he definitely wasn’t the most fastidious man around -- that dubious honour went to his supervisor, Tarkin, who, incidentally, was also a raging dick.

 

One particular part of his morning routine, however, was slowly emerging as his most integral. Walking into the cafe which had a cheery blue-and-silver sign reading _Stardust_ out the front at exactly 7:58 was becoming one of his favoured habits.

 

It had given him a strange little thrill to go in that afternoon. It was like being somewhere forbidden. It was worth breaking his habit, of course, because that little trip had given him the concrete knowledge that Galen wasn’t married.

 

Mind you, now he had to discover his preferences. Krennic had learned when he was still a boy that it was inappropriate to go up to someone you fancied and ask if he was gay. In fact he’d earned a chipped tooth and three stitches in his forehead alongside that very important life lesson.

 

It was futile wondering about all this. Galen had a business. Galen had a child. There was no future. No possibilities whatsoever. Krennic didn’t even want a relationship. They were mess and effort he could be expending on more important things. Like his career. He was married to his job.

 

Married to his job with enough room in the relationship for a raucous party or two a week.

 

He hadn’t actually been the organiser, for once. A young architect, new to the company, had asked to be given the opportunity. His name was Brendol Hux, and he was extremely ambitious.

 

Krennic didn’t like him.

 

It was important at Imperial to keep up appearances -- regardless of whether important deals had been struck each week or not, the parties went on. They were designed to intimidate competition more than court business from socialites.

 

Krennic, for his part, always engaged in a little bit of courting of a different kind. He wasn’t young, but he was unattached, and impressive, and he had a nice apartment to take his conquests to. Admittedly, over the past month, the whole prospect of enjoying the bachelor lifestyle had lost its appeal a little.

 

Not for want of trying.

 

That evening, after his obligatory smalltalk with coworkers (“ _Lovely party, Brendol, what a shame Mr Walker couldn’t make it, you must be so embarrassed!_ ”), Krennic found himself getting on rather well with a boy in his twenties who had been invited because he was the son of one of the higher-ups at the Rothschild Bank.

 

While the old adage about not mixing your drinks to avoid hangovers was true, Krennic was, admittedly, a bit of a lush, not to mention the fact that a hangover gave him incentive to get his coffee in the morning, rather than call in sick and get the day off work. And coffee meant Galen.

 

Not that that mattered.

 

So, he’d switched to vodka limes when he’d gotten chatting to the banker’s son. He hadn’t voluntarily drunk vodka since his early twenties; it tasted like paint thinner and left the most horrendous headaches, but he was lying if he said he wasn’t a little desperate. It had been over a week since he’d taken anybody home with him. He’d been distracted from the cause. It was time to remedy that.

 

At around 2, he and the banker’s son stumbled out to wait for the cab -- the boy had wanted an Uber, but Krennic was nothing if not ostentatious. In the back seat, they made awkward small talk about financial matters -- Krennic didn’t care -- and architecture -- his date quite clearly didn’t care either.

 

The circuitous route the driver had decided to take them on took them past the office, and then past the cafe. Despite his best efforts, in his drunken haze Krennic found himself looking out the window as they passed. It was almost as if he would see Galen working at this late hour.

 

But, of course, inside it was dark.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning as he stumbled out of bed, Krennic felt… different. He stretched, swearing under his breath when his neck cracked, and moved into the bathroom. It wasn’t a lack of fulfillment -- in his nervous chatter about his work in banking, the young man had mentioned his flexibility in planning, but that wasn’t the only flexibility he was gifted with -- it was more the sense that something still wasn’t sitting right.

 

Ugh.

 

When he’d made himself as presentable as he could -- choosing a navy suit in the hopes it would make him less obviously hideously hungover -- he went back out into the bedroom, where his guest -- what was his name? Matt? Andy? Something like that -- was checking his phone.

 

“Nice to meet you, Orson,” he said breezily. “We should catch up again sometime.”

 

Krennic gave him a blank smile. “You’ve got my card.”

 

He glanced up from his phone. “Is that all I get?”

 

It turned into a smirk. “Yes.”

 

The young man smiled and returned to scrolling idly on his phone. Without another word, Krennic made for the door, grabbing his umbrella as he went.

 

It was 7:50, and he refused to be late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't resist a teeny weeny cameo from Brendol, because not only are Huxes ambitious, they're competent. I'm guessing that would mean they and Krennic wouldn't be friends. :p


	4. Chapter 4

In all sincerity, Krennic had intended to limit himself only to morning visits. The one-off afternoon had been an emergency. 

 

Intentions, however, often meant very little.

 

Over the weeks, he’d pop in maybe one afternoon in the week, citing his need for extra caffeine. The barista had learned not to charge him -- for which he gave an overlarge tip, anyway, so it balanced out -- and to let Galen be in charge of making the coffee.

 

Well trained, that barista.

 

He had more or less accepted that one of the things that habitually made his day was when Galen spoke back to him. It was no longer the simple, polite chatter between a customer and a barista. If there was something on his mind, he spoke about it.

 

The appeal of simple joys such as these had all but evaded Krennic for many years. The fact that listening to someone talk could now bring a smile to his face was mildly embarrassing.

 

But it wasn’t as if anyone was the wiser. 

 

One afternoon -- there was no party to be had that evening, as Brendol Hux, again in charge of organisation, had had to reschedule at the last moment due to “personal affairs”, which had made Krennic bristle with the most delectable schadenfreude -- Krennic found himself drifting towards the cafe, though he had very little desire for coffee. 

 

They closed at 3, and it was 2:54. Perhaps he’d just slip in for a quick chat.

 

Closing and shaking out his wet umbrella, he entered, leaving it by the door, as there were no untrustworthy looking customers in the establishment. By the coffee machine, Bodhi was cleaning, and Galen was seated in his customary place, glasses perched on his nose. As Krennic watched, he rubbed his hand over his stubbly chin in thought; it appeared he had elected not to shave this week.

 

In all truthfulness, Krennic could very easily get used to the beard.

 

After a moment, Galen looked up, and he grinned. “Party tonight, Krennic?”

 

“Ah, no.” He glanced at Bodhi, who had apparently been waiting for this answer, as he continued closing up shop. “I thought I’d just come and see how your day had been.”

 

Galen paused. He was thinking. “That’s very thoughtful,” His smile didn’t diminish. “Well, it’s been…  _ largely _ uneventful,” he said. Apparently this was a reference to something or other -- behind the coffee machine, Bodhi was sniggering. “A few difficult customers, but… that’s what I signed up for.”

 

As he’d spoken, Krennic had drawn slowly closer, and was now standing by the table. Galen gestured for him to sit.

 

He did, finally returning Galen’s smile. “At least you have the luxury of no superiors.”

 

“Ah, trouble again? From… what’s his name? Parquet?”

 

Krennic laughed. “Close, but no cigar. Tarkin. He and others.” He paused. “I’d rather work for myself, too.”

 

Galen had listened, patiently, one day when Krennic had accidentally let loose a little more than he usually did. It was his way and his compulsion in most cases to be the listening ear -- to glean information from the things people told him -- but he found that unloading his concerns upon Galen was intensely cathartic.

 

Which, in turn, made him rather uncomfortable.

 

“You’re right, I can’t very well complain about my boss, can I?” Galen said, frowning at his papers. 

 

“I like your boss,” he replied, instantly wishing to kick himself.

 

“You haven’t seen him on a bad day yet.” Galen smirked.

 

“Excuse me,” Bodhi said. Krennic turned to look at him over his shoulder. He shrank slightly. “Galen, I’m just- I was…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m done, I’m off.”

 

Krennic watched Galen smile. “See you tomorrow.”

 

Bodhi nodded and hastily walked out, ostensibly pleased to be leaving Krennic’s presence. He was still scared of him, which -- he’d be lying if he said otherwise -- satisfied him. 

 

Krennic coughed. “Where’s your daughter today?”

 

Galen looked up and around the room, as if only just noticing she wasn’t present. “Jyn,” he said, in a much colder way than he normally spoke. Krennic made a mental note not to forget her name again. “I think she’s down the street. The old couple that owns the tea shop have a lot more time for her than I do sometimes.”

 

“Only because you’re providing for her.”

 

At this, his warmth returned. “Well, I’m trying.” He glanced at his watch and sighed. “She’ll be expecting me in a few minutes. I ought to get going.” He stood, collecting his papers into a haphazard pile. Whenever his birthday rolled around, Krennic was going to buy him a document file. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

 

There was no rush in his words or his posture. “I’m heading the same way,” Krennic said, though he wasn’t. Ah, well, his doctor had been on his case about stress levels. Walking was beneficial to one’s health.

 

“Oh,” Galen intoned, perching his glasses on top of his head. Only he could pull that look off. He moved to the back of the cafe, opening a door in the wall which contained a switchboard, and flicked a few switches, plunging the room into relative darkness. Grabbing a satchel and shoving his papers into it, he moved towards the door, Krennic close behind. 

 

Krennic grabbed his umbrella, and as he stood by outside, waiting for Galen to lock up, he opened it. Straightening, Galen stood beside him, their arms touching. Krennic was uncharacteristically quiet as they walked together.

 

“I envy your job, sometimes, Krennic.”

 

“Mm? Why?”

 

The thought of anybody being jealous of being surrounded by visionless ladder-climbers day in and day out was almost amusing.

  
True, Krennic was a ladder-climber too. But he had  _ ideas _ .

 

“I was part of a… more structured workplace, too. When I was young.”

 

“Oh?”

 

Krennic found himself slowing his pace, so as to delay their arrival.

 

“I have degrees in both science and business, actually. I wanted to go into renewable energy.” Galen looked down, almost embarrassed, as they walked. “But it was… very draining. People are very resistant to change. Then Lyra came along. I…” Galen cleared his throat -- that meant, Krennic had learned, that he was emotional. “I decided to pursue the labour of love that actually kept a roof over my family’s head.”

 

Though Galen mentioned Lyra infrequently, the thought of her still made Krennic twitch. 

 

“Very honourable.”

 

Galen huffed, amused.

 

They had arrived.

 

Just for a moment, Galen looked at him -- expectantly, almost. He stared back, wracking his brain for whatever it was Galen wanted him to say.

 

“Dad, where’ve you been?”

 

In the doorway was standing the same little girl from Galen’s phone screen. She looked to be a few years older now, her hair tied back in a ponytail, decorated with a ribbon. 

 

The thought that Galen must have done it was oddly delightful.

 

The look of complete joy on his face gave Krennic pause. He had always hated children. And he wasn’t about to change his mind, but he enjoyed the sight nevertheless.

 

“Closing up, Stardust,” he said, bending to hoist the little girl into his arms and grunting with the exertion. He turned to Krennic, his face warm. “Jyn, this is my friend, Mr Krennic.”

 

He smiled at her. “Lovely to meet you, Jyn. Your father has told me a lot about you.”

 

She returned his smile grudgingly, clearly a child who’d been raised to have at least rudimentary manners. “Hi, Mr Krennic.”

 

That would be something to work on.

 

“Anyway,” he said, his attention returning to Galen, who absently kissed the side of his daughter’s head. “I’d better leave you to it.”

 

“I’ll see you in the morning, then.”

 

Again Galen grinned at him, which he returned heartily.

 

As he left, he hoped silently that Galen didn’t notice he was going back the way he’d come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw my fic got rec'd on tumblr, so to whichever reader did that, you're cute and thank you!
> 
> Also, friends, do yourselves a favour and get a copy of Catalyst. It goes really in depth with Galen and Krennic (and Lyra, she's so great) and it's just generally fab. I may have pinched a line from it for this one ;D


	5. Chapter 5

When he’d gotten home after accidentally interrupting Galen and Krennic’s conversation, Bodhi had immediately been swept up into changing Parinda’s nappy and helping Ada with dinner. When she asked how his day was, between Reza almost tripping her up, and aggressively mashing potatoes, he almost didn’t want to respond.

 

“Well, um… Galen’s… he’s made a friend.”

 

She raised an eyebrow. “A friend?”

 

Perhaps it was best not to elaborate. “Do you remember that crotchety businessman with the almond milk I told you about a while back?” Without giving her a chance to respond, he continued, “It’s him. Apparently they have a few things in common after all.”

 

To his relief, she didn’t respond, whisking Reza into her arms to take him to the dinner table. Choosing not to think about it too much, he followed.

 

* * *

 

 Later that night, as he sat up feeding Parinda, he was thinking about it again, despite his best efforts.

 

It was just that it didn’t make any sense, what he’d seen.

 

For one thing, Krennic didn’t appear to have a sense of humour to speak of. And for another, Bodhi hadn’t ever seen Galen _flirting_. Not even with Lyra.

 

And yet, the day before…

 

_“I like your boss.”_

 

It was like he’d walked in on his parents kissing or something.

 

But maybe he was looking at the situation wrong.

 

Of course, there had to be other possibilities. Maybe… perhaps he wanted something else, instead. Perhaps he wanted to convince Galen to update the cafe so that he’d have something new to design. Perhaps he had secret aspirations as a coffee mogul and he wanted to enlist Galen as his private brewing slave.

 

For some reason, both possibilities were more comforting than the thought that Krennic _liked_ him.

 

Galen was a kind, steady person. He had his eccentricities, like talking to himself, or to the coffee beans when he thought Bodhi wasn’t listening. But he wouldn’t ever lose his temper, like Krennic had, and he didn’t have Krennic’s lofty aspirations -- nearly every day he was explaining his next big project, or dropping names from the parties he’d been to the night before. Galen was sensible. Reasonable.

 

Generally, Galen was of higher quality as a person. If nothing else, Bodhi knew he deserved better.

 

But how intently he listened when Galen talked, how genuinely disappointed he was if Galen wasn’t around when he came in, how he looked at him, all told the same story.

 

The next day, Bodhi still wasn’t able to shake the thought. He was interested in Galen. There was no denying it.

 

And it appeared that Galen had no idea. He hadn’t said anything to indicate that he knew, and it wasn’t as though he wasn’t observant. On the contrary, when Ada had become pregnant with Parinda, Galen had picked up that Bodhi was hiding something from the fact that he had two sugars in his morning coffee instead of three. Galen lived by patterns and data. And he liked it when he noticed something he hadn’t before.

 

And yet, in this instance, he seemed completely blind to what was right in front of him.

 

When he came into work, Galen was making a drink, a woman standing nearby and picking daintily at a croissant as she waited. He glanced up, smiling at Bodhi. “How was your evening?”

 

“Ada made steak.”

 

“Lucky you. I had toast.”

 

“Galen.”

 

He smiled as he handed the woman her coffee, mildly chastised, and wished her a pleasant day.

 

“Ada’s waiting for an excuse to cook for you and Jyn.”

 

“No, don’t be silly,” he said, rinsing out the milk jug he’d used. He glanced at Bodhi, frowning. “Are you alright?”

 

He could just spit it out. Then Galen would know, and… and do what? Instantly throw himself at Krennic as soon as he walked in? Ask Krennic not to come back, therefore upsetting him and bringing about the apocalypse?

 

“Ah, I, um… can I- could I maybe… speak to you later?”

 

Galen raised an eyebrow, touching his stubbled chin in thought. It took him a moment to respond. “Yes,” he said, carefully. He didn’t like unsolved problems.

 

Bodhi went to work, drafting ways to explain to Galen in his mind.

 

He was filled with trepidation at 7:58 that morning when Krennic walked in and to the register, today in a light grey that he was sure he’d seen before -- it must have been the suit from the day of The Almond Milk Incident.

 

“Morning,” Bodhi peeped, eyes downcast. When he didn’t receive a response, he looked up at Krennic, who had already become distracted and was gazing at Galen. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Morning, Mr Krennic?”

 

He looked at Bodhi, who glanced awkwardly between the man and his boss, before meeting Krennic’s eyes.

 

This, Bodhi would later reflect, was a mistake.

 

He narrowed his eyes, and he leaned closer, silently appraising him, face devoid of emotion. Instinctively, Bodhi drew back a little.

 

His eyes were full of rage, but a different kind than that he’d seen on the day they met. Krennic had seen that Bodhi had seen.

 

Silently he began to pray for his immortal soul, and for a quick and painless death.

 

“Soy latte, Bodhi,” he hissed, spitting Bodhi’s name. “Double shot.” He paused, the look in his eyes melting away, and smiled. “And if you tell anyone else my _order_ , I’ll have to kill you.”

 

He laughed emotionlessly, and Galen glanced up, rising from his seat with a genuine smile. He squeezed Krennic’s arm as he passed.

 

The anger was gone, replaced by what would have looked like bashfulness on anybody else. The two began to chat, and Bodhi returned to stocking the pastry displays, eager to escape the man who, he was now thinking, may or may not be a bloodthirsty super villain in disguise.

 

As Krennic left, he paused in front of Bodhi, the slightest smirk on his face. “Bye, Bodhi,” he said, his voice low, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

He couldn’t have had a more profound effect if he’d instead described his plan for his murder.

 

When he was gone, Bodhi swallowed, swearing himself to silence.

 

* * *

 

“What did you need to talk about, Bodhi?” Galen asked him at the end of the day. “You looked very distressed this morning. Is everything okay?”

 

Bodhi froze. He’d forgotten the whole exchange after Krennic had left, much more committed to planning how to get his family into witness protection before Krennic managed to send a hitman after him.

 

“Oh! Ah. Yes. Of course. I…” He wracked his brain. “Dinner! Yes. Yes. Ada was… she hasn’t… seen you and Jyn in a while. She… I… we thought you might like to come for dinner. This weekend.”

 

Galen watched him for a moment, nodding slowly. “I think we can arrange that.” He sounded unconvinced, but he was still nodding. “Thank you.”

 

Bodhi grinned. “My pleasure. We’d… it’ll… it’s been too long, you know, so…” He stopped. It was enough. Any more and Galen would start asking leading questions.

 

“Right.”

 

“Well, I, ah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

“Yes. Bye, Bodhi.”

 

The direct quote of Krennic, albeit with much kinder inflection, made his skin crawl as he walked out into the street.

 

* * *

 

 

Krennic often ate lunch among his colleagues. It wasn’t because he especially enjoyed their company -- for the most part, he didn’t -- it was that at Imperial, they were set in their ways. If you didn’t like it, it was suggested you find a company more willing to accommodate your own personal tastes.

 

A new intern, whose name he hadn’t yet bothered to learn, brought coffee for everybody in a big glass jug from one of those old drip machines. As she poured it into the chipped mugs on everyone’s trays, Krennic crumpled his napkin in his hands and dropped it on his tray.

 

“You know where they have spectacular coffee?”

 

Someone tilted their head questioningly.

 

“There’s a cafe called Stardust, it’s not far from here, actually. A friend of mine,” -- hadn’t Galen introduced him as such to his own daughter? -- “runs it. His name is Galen. He really knows his way around a coffee machine; I’ve been going there every day. He uses a very unique blend that he makes himself. It’s excellent stuff. And he’s a great man. He’s a single father on top of everything else.”

 

Glancing about at the generally unimpressed assembly, he cleared his throat. “It’s very good.”

 

As a rule, Krennic remained in control of himself and the things he said. He was excellent at reading people. He did not like to be read.

 

He kept his face neutral, allowing the conversation to continue on in a different direction.

 

Just what exactly was Galen Erso doing to him?


	6. Chapter 6

Ada almost ran to answer the door when Galen and Jyn arrived on Saturday evening -- to Bodhi’s great relief, she’d been delighted by the prospect of the Ersos coming for dinner, despite the fact that it had been a last-minute request. She was wonderful like that. She kissed both of Galen’s cheeks -- remarking, as she did, on the beard he’d apparently elected to keep -- and knelt to wrap Jyn in her arms before ushering them both into the kitchen where Bodhi was chopping a tomato for salad.

Lyra’s absence was always most keenly felt when they were all together; it was Lyra’s friendship with Ada that had gotten Bodhi the job at Stardust in the first place, and she had always been the first to laugh and the quickest witted among them. She’d only known Reza for a very short period, but had been like a second mother to him, and Ada treated Lyra like a beloved older sister.

When she died, Jyn had slept on a blow-up mattress on the floor in Ada and Bodhi’s bedroom, Ada singing lullabies until Jyn fell asleep. Galen had been so lost in his grief that he’d barely had the strength to keep himself moving, let alone his then-six-year-old daughter, and it had been months before he’d been anything like himself again.

On this evening, though, Galen seemed less sombre than he usually was when he came over and was reminded of all the evenings Lyra and Ada had spent together. He was his normal distracted self, of course, drifting off into his thoughts as Ada chatted to Jyn about school ( _“I beat all the boys in running today!”_ ), but when he came back to reality, he didn’t look sad.

Bodhi had the most uncomfortable sensation that this had something to do with Krennic. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth -- it was not at all that he didn’t want Galen to be happy. But he also didn’t want Galen, or Jyn, for that matter, subjected to such a curmudgeonly fart of a human being for any extended period of time.

Galen was smart. Surely he would make a sensible decision, should it ever come to that.

Surely.

* * *

 There were very few people in the world who took partying as seriously as Orson Krennic did.

Brendol Hux, on the other hand, prided himself on his restraint. Getting embarrassingly drunk and seducing young men with daddy issues was hardly respectable behaviour for a senior, and otherwise well-respected, architect.

He had discovered, however, that there was something worse than drunken, randy Krennic.

And that was Krennic that could not shut up about some barista he’d met and with whom he had ostensibly fallen head over heels.

Hux and Krennic were able, usually, to spend a few minutes in light small talk -- chatting about work if all other avenues of conversation exhausted themselves. But on that particular Saturday evening -- Krennic was hosting, and as such should have been rushing about taking care of his guests, as Hux did when _he_ hosted -- he’d spent approximately twenty minutes raving about this Erso fellow.

Perhaps the most disconcerting part of it was how cynical -- disdainful, in fact -- Krennic had previously been of relationships that lasted more than a week. Yet here he was. “Galen and I only met about six weeks ago, and I feel that we know each other well, do you understand what I mean?”

Yes, Hux had assured him, the first four times he asked a question, before realising that he was, in fact, trapped forever, and whether he responded or not, Krennic was going to keep prattling on.

To his credit, he seemed genuinely changed by this boyfriend of his. It was quite a feat to reduce Orson Krennic -- a private joke among the junior architects was that the way sixty percent of them had gotten their jobs was through extracurricular fraternisation with him -- to a monogamist.

That didn’t change the fact that it had, now, been twenty five minutes of a largely one-sided conversation. Krennic was a perceptive man. Despite his long list of faults (temper, grating Australian accent, utter disregard for the chain of command, and soy milk consumption), nobody could say he didn’t read people well. Mentally, however, Hux added an item to the list.

_Loses all ability to shut the hell up when in a relationship._

* * *

 Krennic had slept alone all weekend.

Until he’d met Galen, this was completely unheard of. Granted, occasionally at a work party he wouldn’t pull, but by Sunday evening he’d always be gearing up to go out, get drunk, and engage in some nocturnal carousing.

On that particular Sunday evening, however, he’d sat down to do paperwork with a glass of wine, and turned on the radio to listen to some classical music. He had yet to ask Galen what sort of music he liked. He seemed like a classic rock man. Perhaps it was the ponytail.

It had more than tickled him, the night before, when a number of his colleagues had asked how long he and Galen -- whom he may or may not have spent more than a few minutes talking about, for lack of anything else being on his mind -- had been seeing each other. He had given a vague answer or two, though truly, there was very little harm in not completely dispelling the chatter. It wasn’t as though he’d ever bring Galen along to an Imperial function, excellent arm candy though he may have been. He was too genuine, too kind, to make any sort of headway in that kind of environment. In fact, by not inviting him, Krennic was being considerate. Protective.

Not the least bit cowardly.

Galen had expressed in their conversations, admittedly in different words, that he felt like an outsider much of the time. He’d first come to England in his teens to attend college -- his mother, he said, encouraged him to go, and financed him as far as she could. After college, he went to university, finishing his degrees in business and science. Educated though he was, he’d never quite shaken his accent.

Krennic, for his part, had done his undergraduate study in Australia, however his father had been an English citizen, which granted him dual citizenship, thereby facilitating his relocation to further his career.

His journey to England had been easy. Everything that followed hadn’t.

Both he and Galen, it seemed to him, had built themselves up from the ground. Galen was intelligent, but he seemed not to desire the recognition he deserved. It made Krennic want to rave about him to people all the more.

Over the past couple of weeks, he’d accepted that perhaps what he felt was a little bit more than a crush. His last thought before he went to sleep and his first when he woke up were the same. Not to mention the voluntary celibacy.

Admittedly he probably should have spoken with a little more discretion at the party instead of talking unreservedly, and exclusively, about Galen. But his skill in manipulating those around him when the situation required it notwithstanding, restraint had never been his strong suit.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t felt this way since he was a young man. The truth was he’d never felt this way in his life.

Nor had he ever threatened entirely innocuous baristas. Bodhi, boring though he was, hadn’t ever done anything malicious towards Krennic, but the fact that he had any power at all in affecting his relationship with Galen had made the threat fall out of his mouth before he had been able to stop it. Unnecessary intimidation was beneath him.

Although corporate strong-arming had been the way of things in his career since his very first day with Imperial, in his personal life he’d always taken a somewhat softer approach. He wanted to build something meaningful.

Who on earth had he become?

In order to succeed in this completely alien endeavour, his approach to Galen had to be different. Krennic had never attempted to get someone to go out with him, in the traditional sense. Even when he was young, he’d been a bad-influence child, the kind that boyfriends’ and girlfriends’ parents had warned against. Somehow he had to convince Galen of his worthiness, using only himself and the truth.

He was lost.

* * *

 Bright and early -- or, rather, as bright as it ever got in London in late winter -- on Monday morning, Krennic walked into the cafe, as cheerful as Bodhi had ever seen him.

On this particular day, Krennic arrived with two paper bags clutched in his hand, and ignoring Bodhi entirely, he marched over to Galen’s table where he was working.

“Good morning, Galen,” Bodhi heard him say.

Still bleary, not yet having gulped down the double espresso sitting on the table beside him, Galen smiled up at him, perching his reading glasses on top of his head. “Morning, Orson.”

Bodhi watched Krennic’s back straighten with what seemed like pride. Galen hadn’t ever called him that.

“I’ve brought you breakfast.”

Galen narrowed his eyes like he did when he was trying to solve a problem, but it quickly resolved back into a tired grin. “That’s very kind. Thank you.”

Krennic handed one of the paper bags to him, holding the other almost protectively against his chest. He looked nervous. Bodhi wondered if he was hiding an engagement ring inside whatever he’d brought. The thought, while horrifying, wasn’t exactly shocking.

When Galen and Krennic had been sitting and eating for a few moments, the chimes on the door rang, and Mr Baze walked in, shaking drizzle from his long hair like a wet dog. Bodhi was already halfway to the coffee machine to make his hot chocolate.

Baze was, in fact, his first name, and how he’d introduced himself, but the manners to elders that Bodhi’s parents had instilled in him had forced him to add the Mr -- Jyn had started using it, too, and it had since stuck. He was a gruff-looking older man who seemed incapable of wearing anything with a collar. Bodhi had always liked him. Last year on Ada’s birthday, he and his husband, Mr Chirrut, had given her a blue paisley teapot, which still had pride of place in their china cabinet at home.

After giving a grunt of greeting, Mr Baze looked over his shoulder at Krennic and Galen, who had become absorbed in an animated discussion. He leaned close to Bodhi and asked in a hushed tone, “Who’s he?”

Bodhi swallowed. “He’s, um… a friend. Of Galen’s.”

Mr Baze raised an eyebrow. “‘Friend’?”

He froze. “I- don’t have a- any idea… what you’re talking about.”

Mr Baze glanced again at Krennic, who was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, and watching Galen speak with utter engagement.

“Couldn’t be more obvious if he was wearing a neon sign,” Mr Baze grumbled, leaning against the coffee machine. Bodhi couldn’t help a smile -- even if Krennic heard, Mr Baze was the kind of man who’d get into a fistfight with anybody who threatened someone for no reason.

Hot chocolate made, he handed Mr Baze his cup, stacked on top with four shortbreads, and gave him a cursory nod. In response, Mr Baze wished him a pleasant day and departed.

“... I really must bring you by the office sometime, Galen. I’m quite proud of the work we do.”

With nothing better to occupy his attention as he went through the motions of making Krennic’s coffee, Bodhi surreptitiously returned to listening to them.

“I suppose that’s only fair,” Galen replied. “You’ve seen plenty of what I spend my time doing; I ought to return the favour.”

That sounded suspiciously like some sort of strange first date.

“Excellent. I’ll hold you to that.” Krennic crumpled up the paper bag his now finished breakfast had been in and got hesitantly to his feet, smiling ruefully as he did. With a nod and a long look at Galen, he left.

Galen stared at his half-finished bacon and egg sandwich on the table, eyes darting around as they did when he was thinking very hard. He glanced up, frowning.

“That was nice of him,” Bodhi said.

He was silent for a long moment. “It was,” he replied, returning to his work with a shake of his head. The thoughtful frown persisted for the rest of the morning.


	7. Chapter 7

It had become part of the weekly routine for Krennic to bring in breakfast on a Wednesday. 

 

Galen rarely took the time to actually eat. To him, it was more useful to spend the time working. It was often only the obligation to see Jyn fed that kept him eating.

 

So when Krennic had started bringing him breakfast he’d appreciated the opportunity to relax for a moment, confusing though it had first been, and eat. 

 

Perhaps, he had realised, Krennic was actually interested in him -- why that was the case, though, was anybody’s guess.  Regardless, he was grateful for someone around his own age to talk to each morning. He liked him; he was affable, attentive, and he often knew enough about the things that occupied Galen’s thoughts to formulate a sensible response.

 

As much as he adored his daughter, one could only take a conversation about solar cells with an eight-year-old so far.

 

On that day, Krennic came in at 12, on the dot. Every previous visit, he’d come in at either 7:58, or a few minutes before closing. Galen found himself smiling.

 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Orson?”

 

“It’s lunch time.”

 

“We do baguettes.”

 

“You really don’t have much of an imagination sometimes, Galen.” Krennic smiled slowly, as though he was waiting for Galen to arrive at a conclusion on his own. He blinked. “Come out, you need the fresh air.”

 

“Out?”

 

“For lunch.” A pause. “It’s my treat.”

 

Galen inspected him cautiously. It was no secret that Bodhi mistrusted Orson, though for anything other than The Almond Milk Incident, as he’d dubbed it, was dubious. As far as Galen was aware, Orson had only the best, if slightly confusing, intentions. He was a little difficult to read sometimes -- clearly broadcast, however, was the fact that this was intentional -- but he clearly had some sort of interest in pursuing... something with Galen.  He could, indeed, do with a few moments out of work, and Bodhi was coping fine…

 

“I’ll be back in a bit, Bodhi,” Galen said. Bodhi looked up at him, shock reading clearly on his face, like he’d just said he was about to go jump off a cliff. Dumbly, he nodded, and Galen smiled, grabbing his overcoat from where it sat in the booth where he did his work, and tugging it on.

 

Orson looked positively chuffed.

 

Out on the street, there was a light drizzle, which Orson didn’t bother putting up his umbrella for.

 

“Busy day?” he asked, glancing up at Galen with a cautious smile.

 

He nodded. “There’s an environmental science student that comes in sometimes, and she did today. It’s rare I get to have a proper conversation with a customer.”

 

“How nice. I imagine you can’t very well start babbling to Bodhi about hydroelectricity.”

 

Galen smiled. Several times shortly after Lyra’s death he’d done just that. It wasn’t that Bodhi didn’t care to listen; it was that he could only receive “oh, really, how fascinating” as a response so many times. “Not exactly. Solar was really my passion, though.”

 

“Are you telling me you’re a barista  _ and _ a proponent of solar power? Mr Erso, I believe you’re a hipster.”

 

They laughed. Orson’s genuine laugh made him look much less tightly-laced. Galen liked it.

 

“This from an architect who missed an opportunity to turn the roof of his creation into a giant battery. I’m not a hipster; you’re small-minded.”

 

Orson smirked in response. “If only I had known that a couple of years down the line my choices would be questioned by a cafe owner.” He sighed dramatically. “Well, hindsight is 20/20.”

 

“Is there a reason you didn’t?” Galen asked. “Incorporate solar, I mean.”

 

“A few. It’s never been my greatest priority, truthfully, but aesthetics matter a great deal, as well as what our clients actually ask for.”

 

“Big business,” Galen said tiredly. He shook his head. Solar cells were usually a plain, sleek black. That would have fit perfectly with the aesthetic of the Rothschild bank building, as well as making it somewhat less of a blight on London’s already atrocious energy usage. In another life he could have formed a proposal, had Lyra help him so he didn’t accidentally say something offensive to an important person, and approached the bank himself to ask if perhaps they’d consider the addition to their headquarters… In this life, however, it simply made him sad and tired.

 

“Should I be offended?” Krennic asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I am, in fact, a potential partner. Does that make me one of  _ them _ ?”

 

Galen grunted in thought. “No,” he said, after a moment. “You’re listening to a so-called hipster about his opinions on solar power. I believe that makes you different.”

 

“That makes me different,” he repeated, as though it were a point of pride. 

 

For a moment -- Galen still drifting in his thoughts; Lyra was always so good at formulating his thoughts and ideas into sentences that were more easily digested by the people he tried to speak to -- they walked side by side in silence. 

 

When they arrived at a small Vietnamese place, Orson strolled confidently in. It was open to the air, a few overhead gas heating units providing the only warmth. 

 

The drizzle had been falling more steadily as they walked. England was especially unreceptive to solar for that reason; many had accepted the falsehood that rain stopped it from being effective, when on the contrary, rain in fact helped cells keep clean of dust and grime. 

 

“So am I to take it that you drive a Prius?” Krennic was asking as they sat. Galen blinked a few times.

 

“God, no.” He smiled. “It might make me a hypocrite, but I’ve always liked vintage cars.”

 

Galen looked at Orson, who was grinning. “Really?”

 

“I have a ‘77 Camaro convertible.”

 

He’d bought it cheap shortly before he met Lyra and restoring it had been a pet project of his. That car was like an old friend to him -- it was currently stored with an old work friend outside of London. One of Galen’s greatest pleasures was to take Jyn out there on his rare weekends off and drive for hours, showing her the countryside.

 

“You  _ what _ ?”

 

Sheepishly, Galen nodded. “It’s not like I spent an exorbitant amount on it. Well, not at the outset. Fixing it up definitely…”

 

He stopped. Orson was chuckling quietly.

 

“You don’t need to defend your vices to me, Galen. I just… didn’t quite have you pegged as a petrolhead.”

 

In response, he gave a self-deprecating shrug. “Not quite. I only see him once every couple of months.”

 

“ _ Him _ ?”

 

Galen smiled. “Shh.”

 

A waiter quietly sidled up to their table and asked if they were ready. Without hesitation, Orson ordered several dishes, and when the waiter left, gave Galen a nonchalant smile. “We can share.”

 

Galen was quiet for a moment, feeling, suddenly, as though he was on a date.

 

“So how about you, Orson? Have you got any embarrassing vices?”

 

Orson leaned back, steepling his fingers with a look of satisfaction on his face. “I have a car, if that’s what you mean,” he said, smirking. “Haven’t given it a name, though.”

 

“What is it?” Galen asked, sitting up straighter. 

 

“It’s a Maserati Ghibli. Perhaps not the flashiest ever, but it does the job.” This he said with ironic amusement. “A white 2014 model. I could have a company car with Imperial if I wished, but I find the idea of being one of a fleet of black BMWs a little bit gauche.”

 

It was Galen’s turn to laugh. Orson looked slightly affronted.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing, nothing.” Galen sighed, leaning back again. “It’s just that I’m impressed by your good taste.”

 

Eyes narrowed, Orson’s smirk shifted. “Fine, then, we’ll see whose handles better one day.”

 

“One day,” Galen agreed.

* * *

 

Bodhi shoved a forkful of rice and vegetables in his mouth as an espresso shot ran into a paper cup in front of him. Business had picked up in the few minutes after Galen left. It was fine, though; Bodhi could probably count on his hands the number of times he’d taken a lunch break in the past few months.

 

The two hours Galen had been gone had passed without incident, save for a baguette being burned when Bodhi forgot about it. But once he’d managed to make the smoke detector stop beeping, everything was fine. Mostly.

 

“Have a nice day,” Bodhi said as he shoved a lid on the Americano he’d made. “Wait, no, I-” He sighed. “Americano. Thank you, sir.”

 

The slightly confused businessman nodded in thanks as he collected his drink and went for the door. Finally Bodhi had a moment to himself, and grabbing his Tupperware container, sank to the floor to finish his lunch in peace. He stabbed a piece of green pepper and lifted it to his mouth.

 

The doorbell tinkled as someone opened it. Swearing under his breath, Bodhi got to his feet.

 

“--besides, the logistics of trying to retrofit solar when we’ve already done all the construction and wiring would be an absolute nightmare.”

 

Krennic held the door for Galen as the two of them walked in, Galen shucking off his coat. Bodhi sighed in relief, but dusted off his pants anyway. He leaned against the counter and continued eating.

 

“All I’m saying is you could consider it.”

 

“I could,” Krennic conceded, hovering expectantly near Galen as he tossed his coat into his work booth. 

 

“Thank you for lunch, anyway, Orson. I enjoyed myself.”

 

Krennic nodded, smiling warmly. “As did I. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

After a quiet moment passed between them, Krennic left. Galen looked up at Bodhi with a quizzical frown.

 

“Good lunch?” Bodhi asked awkwardly.

 

Galen nodded, sitting back down to get back to work. Through the afternoon, more than once Bodhi noticed a smile creeping across his face.

* * *

 

That evening, when Galen had picked Jyn up from her babysitter’s, and was making dinner, she sat in the dining room doing homework.

 

“What’s eight times twelve?”

 

“Aren’t we meant to be learning those ourselves?”   
  


Galen wasn’t a flirtatious person -- perhaps, until that day, the only person who would ever say any differently was Lyra. But at lunch with Orson, he’d found himself cracking jokes and laughing along with Orson’s. It had been nice, but it left him firmly in completely unfamiliar territory. 

 

“Ninety-four?”

 

“Not quite.”

 

Jyn knit her brow, and he felt an intense inundation of love for her. In so many respects, she was just like Lyra, and that expression was one of them.

 

“Ninety-six.”

 

“Good job.”

 

The two of them were happy, and comfortable, together. Sometimes it was lonely, but he could gladly exist only with and for Jyn for the rest of her days, if that was what she needed. On the other hand, though, if she had the space in her heart for someone new in their lives, he would much more readily accept that. If Orson could handle a child, excellent. If he couldn't, it would be a necessary loss.

 

Still, Orson knew about Jyn and apparently hadn't been dissuaded yet.

 

“Can I ask you something, Stardust?”

 

She put down her pencil and frowned up at him. His tone had been too serious. Sighing, he sat down, and offered her his hand. She took his little finger in one fist and his thumb in the other, staring at him.

 

“Do we have to move?” she asked very soberly. He laughed despite himself.

 

All through Jyn’s earliest years, before they’d settled down and opened the cafe, Galen and Lyra had had to relocate every several months; such was the life of a passionate scientist. Jyn had hated it, and he knew she still dreaded the prospect of relocating yet again. They hadn’t moved in four years now, and the thought of abandoning the home in which Lyra had lived her final years felt like sacrilege.

 

“No, of course not.”

 

She sighed, shaking her head. “You can’t scare me like that, Papa!”

 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. She turned his hand over in hers and decisively kissed the back of it. He was forgiven. “It’s… it’s nothing like that.”

  
  
“What, then?”

 

“You know that grown-ups… sometimes, they…” He wracked his brain. “When they don’t have a husband or a wife for a long time, they might want to… find a new one.”

 

Jyn’s face fell slightly. It very nearly killed his courage.

 

“Not replacements for the lost ones,” he added hurriedly. “Because there’s no way to replace a person. But… I…”

 

Unexpectedly, he felt tears welling in the corners of his eyes. He bit his tongue and forced himself to take a breath.

 

“What would you think if Papa perhaps went out with someone? Just to get to know them.”

 

That the “them” in question was actually a “he” would have to be addressed, too, of course, but that was a conversation for another day.

 

A badly disguised look of disdain crossed her face. “Okay,” she said.

 

“Not straight away, necessarily,” he said. “Just… if I were to meet somebody.”

 

“Okay,” she repeated, nodding, letting go of his hand. She returned to her homework and appeared to already have forgotten it.

 

He’d always been a terrible liar, but half of that statement had been true -- it wasn’t as though Orson had officially said anything at lunch, no matter what Galen’s suspicions were.

 

The second half, however, was not exactly a lie. But certainly -- undeniably -- it implied something that wasn’t exactly true, either. He’d said  _ if _ he were to meet someone.

  
He didn’t need to tell her yet that he suspected he already had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! I have absolutely loved the response I've gotten for this fic so far, and I'm so flattered :) This has been such an awesome first foray into the SW fandom!
> 
> I just thought I'd let you know that sadly, updates may be a little bit more sporadic now -- I'm starting a new semester in a couple of weeks and my course is a pretty high workload, but I'll do my best :)


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